Welcome back to my TV!

I've missed you so.Now when will you bring back Undergrads?
Clone High

And one More to the list

I was under a quiet impression that yesterday would unfold to be a normal day. I rolled out of bed, opened my room door to allow the echoes of my yelling parents bounce off my walls. My eyes still shut, I lifted my brows, lazily rolled my lids back to absorb the current events. Parents nagging each other... check, seems like everything as per normal.

Running on the treadmill: I notice my cheeks aren't flabbing as much anymore. That's somewhat good news.

Ab machine: My best guy friend, next to Dan, calls me while I'm working away on my incognito abs. Ahhh..... even though I hate to admit it. It does feel nice and warm when people remember and wish you a happy birthday. Even old friends from your past lives, different eras, circa 1995.

Life seems to be pretty swell, especially when your guy never fails to surprise you after years come and go. We finally made it to Nu. I had great expectations for its ambience but I was a little saddened to experience that it was tinier and less spectacular than what the media and myself had meticulously built it up to be. Though I do fancy the unique chairs with their broad bases and skinny stems. The fanfare of food was luscious. From selections of fresh oysters lightly battered to plop in your mouth whilst gently clasping a lab dropper infusing a shot of ale to embolden its savoury flavour to a chocolate nougat torte with citrus jellies and a miniature cylindrical chocolate mascarpone sandwiched in the middle of two biscuits with an accompanying macaron, there is no regret in hedonic pleasures in sweets.

We sat there enjoying our food, with our beer and martini, reveling the quaint serenity of False Creek, watching people come and leave for two hours. A good day.

Looks like I have to update my gray top bar below "Bang Bang Zoink Zoink", I'll have to do that every year.

And then there was LIGHT....

Wow. I am crazy happy that I finally have internet connection that this is the first thing I sought out to do now, in case for some reason or other my wireless connection gets cut off !

I couldn't even sleep well last night after coming home from work, not even being able to check my email! UGH!! Something with my walls... must have some traces of lead.

Well, on a bright note, I have passed my probation with my company! After 3 fidgety months and a few weeks of squinty-eyed paranoid talk, "Am I in? No... think they're going to fire me... But I can't be that bad.." I got 2 letters. One from HR and the other from the president and CEO of the Canadian division. Plus I got a little pin of our company logo WOOhoo!

June, my favourite month is briskly enclosing. I am slightly perturbed that this month of the year is always known as 'hectic' month. Exams, birthdays and my graduation ceremony. I remember as a kid in grade school, June was 'happy' month! Because that was the single month of the year that we had summer vacation and life was just pure sunshine for June. Anyways, when the time comes, I'll most definitely post some pics of my grad and some other miscellaneous junk - I'll keep you updated.

Fine weather, eh mate?

Presently, I have just woken from a pleasant night with my better half.

With my hair carelessly knotted into a haphazard bun and slipping into my comfy robe, I walk downstairs to prepare some strong coffee for him and moments later bid him the most cheerful goodbyes and kisses as he boards his car, destined for school.

*Sigh* It's such a wonderful day outside now as I steal quick glances between this computer screen and my window. The sky beginning to illuminate with some soft rays. As I sip my warm coffee in my favourite clay-looking mug, listening to Tony Bennet croon and typing these very words, I begin to realize how much I miss blogging. The slightly added guilt and shame from having abstained from doing so in such a long time.

Sometimes, I wish I could turn back time to 6 months previously, myself still in school and Dan and I would be bundled up cozy and walking the character streets of Vancouver, coffees held in our arched fingers while we spent the days chatting about politics, economics, technology and our personal lives in general.

Now, between juggling my schedule with a job, studying my course and him having to finish off his last semester, gallivanting days have waned.


Well... I just miss those days, and that is all.

Pearls before swine? Pearls before breakfast

Joshua Bell in his artistry with a Stradivarius before a Washington D.C. crowd.

Over here .

Source: chiaroscuro.baltiblogs.com/archives/violin.jpg

Tum tea Tum dee tuum

So it did feel like I might have died or fell off the edge of the world didn't it?
I do agree.


I've been so busy with work that most days I feel all exhausted and dried out of any zest of inspiration for any writing. Its sad, but painfully real that since working at my new job, I don't find as much time to my own where I can sit and ponder about significant things in life, where I want to scribble in my 'lil black notebook and rush back home to log into blogger.


A tad disappointed, I wonder if my life will take me down the path of those workaholic people whom I once considered poor uninspired conformist saps. And it looks to be so.


Everyday after spending 8 hours at work, I come home and study for tests and then later on at night I do more data compilation for my old job. I know, I know, I didn't have the guts to say 'no' to them when they asked me to stay, plus I couldn't pass up the chance of earning some extra cash.


The last few semesters in school, final exam periods were dreadful where almost every semester there was no doubt whatsoever that cramming was involved. I couldn't wait to graduate and find a mindless fair-paying job where I didn't have to think and stimulate my mind.


Certainly didn't imagine that working life would be more consuming than my previous life. With the way things are going, I don't think I can make a better time for this year's Vancouver Sun Run.


Geez, I remember in school, I used to be able to sleep for 3 hours and go for an exam in the morning. I sleep 7 hours every weeknight now and I still wanna roll around under my sheets after slamming down hard on my alarm clock. Am I getting old?
I try to make up for it by sleeping 10 hours a night on the weekend... don't think that's working though... in fact, I think I'm getting fatter.

Putchon yo Dancing shoos!

My recommendation: Watch the previous video first.


ULHS 2006 Charleston Finals. Here's a modern take to the Charleston and Lindy Hop. I wish I was cool like them...

Best Vid EVER!!!!

I've watched this vid about 6 times now ever since I found it on Twiboo. The Charleston looks amazingly fun to dance. Shitty that I'll never have so much coordination to even square-dance...

To be mediocre

Mozart was born Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart to a comfortably rich family in Salzburg, Austria.
Leopold Mozart, father of Mozart was one of Europe's great musical teachers and had entitlement to a successful career as a composer of instrumental music. Mozart's exceptional musical talents surfaced when he was a mere age of 3 years old - a toddler.


230 years later, a little girl sits on a piano seat with her little brows knitted and facial features contorted. As she gingerly presses down the keys, down comes a powerful swing of the cane as it strikes the innocent fingers that bore the consequences for the guilty finger that hit the wrong key.

I suppose its easily comprehensible to see where my aversion to playing the piano stemmed from. I can reminisce those moments where my mom urged me by the shoulders to play a tune to those where I could not overcome the upheavals in my stomach as sat by the piano in the examination room. In retrospect, I whole-heartedly regret my silly decision to quit piano after the third grade, pondering over my inflexibilty to absorb the skill at my age of 23. Yet my heart yearns so as I listen to the prodigies of both Classical and Romantic composers.

Mozart revealed musical talents when he was 3. I struggled to keep up at 8. Sometimes I can't help but feel retarded.

Spanning from the 19th century till the 20th century, both Western and Eastern Europe, typically cosmopolitan Vienna, fostered the blossoming popularity of instrumental music. Composers such as Mozart and Tchaikovsky recieved musical influences from their parents. But I'm sure genetic predisposition must have played an integral part. What ever happened to that kind of fostering in this modern period?

At times I secretly wish to be born in that era and location, to meet these people. Did you know that Tchaikovsky was of the Romantic period, so was Gustav Mahler. He married Alma who was 20 years his junior also a brilliant composer. They had a bad marriage, Gustav tried to sort our their problems and visited Sigmund Freud in his Vienna office. Alma ended up having affairs with Walter Gropius and more famously with Oskar Kokoschka. She outlived Gustav by 50 years! Alma also knew Gustav Klimt and gave him him her first kiss!

On a side note, Tchaikovsky was only 53 when he died but from pictures he looked the age of a 70-year old man. I have problems looking my age. Last spring I went to my long awaited visit to the dentist. She commented that I hadn't visited in a long time and asked if I was having too much fun on my spring break. I answered: "What spring break? I don't have a spring break." She said in a surprise: "Oh, I thought you were in high school!"


Sources: www.geocities.com/tacphotography/piano.jpg

Me at Work

How do people actually find these crazily cute animals?


Boredom is a real kicker when you look at statistical numbers all day. I sent out a test fax the other day to myself and addressed it to 'Poopoohead'.

Drag On

I hate my job.
Mostly because it really bores the crap outta me and I'm starting to get carpal tunnel in my wrist from clicking on the mouse too much from all this compiling I have to do.
I guess this disdain really stems from alot of factors.
Such as, my dislike for the working environment. I sit in a poorly lit space that numbs the tips of my fingers and toes whenever it rains or snows and that silly little heat fan does no wonders for me. People, especially the boss get to eavesdrop on all my conversations and talks to me about it at times. He also pushes for all these deadlines which I have to meet and nudges me when I am not able to meet them even when I have to stop from doing my work whenever they interrupt me to do something else, when there is a power outage (this happens alot) and the computer is really slow.
Lastly, I sit in someone's house which is pretty old - therefore the bad insulation and I don't get to interact much with people at all. Since the company comprises of only 4 people myself included.

Thank god I have another job waiting for me after I quit this one. I'm soooo looking forward to it because its so much more related to what I want to do in the future compared to this stupid marketing job I have now, geeez....
Can't wait, this Friday I hand in my resignation letter.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

Every so often, when I do manage to find some spare time (I lie. This happens quite frequently.), you'd find me wondering the myriad of streets that embody this city I reside in, Vancouver.




Awhile back, I was in my favourite little toy and t-shirt store, erratically flipping through t-shirts on the rack in hopes of finding some print that will greatly amuse me, when I stumbled upon one that sneakingly stole my attention.
I gazed at it for a few moments, in my best ability to discern the message it was trying to converse and its implications. It depicted a typical image of Jesus Christ, a rather bright yellow halo beaming from his head, with other aspects idiosyncratic to the 'Crucifiction'. Surrounding him were the British police, with their tall helmets strapped to their chins and clutching his arms while one obscured his genitals with another tall helmet, escorting him away.
Most of these t-shirts, plainly with its caricatures convey limited information on their own. It is therefore solely the responsibility of the title to reconcile the image with its association and meaning. This particular t-shirt's title was : JC was a Streaker

A female mind in its full process is quite a peculiar thing in stark comparison with a male mind. A torrential flood of ideas and opinions can literally generate and power a streamliner of non-linear reveries, as Wanda Sykes can attest to. As I sat in the car on the way back home, oddly I thought about this shirt. I can attribute my lingering afterthoughts of this shirt to my Christian roots as a supposition. My parents in their good nature brought my sister and I up with staunch Christian teachings and as a weak-willed child, I have attended a more than good enough number of church camps, meetings and events which literally bored me. Now as a grown-up, I do not steadfastly stand on a declaration that I detest Christianity nor am I an atheist. I however choose to believe the Bible's teachings as a rough guide to one's life, not to be taken into exact literal consideration, a displeasure to my parents whom with an extent of certainty of mine share close resemblances to Christian fundamentalists.

For one, that shirt conjured up no particular interest in me and so I casually flipped it over in search of better prints. But as I sat in the car thinking about this shirt, I asserted that if that person standing there in my place was my father, he would have brought his complaints to the proprietor and give an ill-favoured lecture on respect for religion, this I am sure. And this is my main point. Perhaps in the eyes of my parents, their offspring have wondered into the dark side, risking shame as a backslided Christian. But standing at this spot has enabled me a slight insight to non-Christians' and atheists' perspective, how they interpret the teachings of Christianity.

Non-Christians and especially atheists probably view religion as archaic and irrelevant. An opium for the masses when poverty still engulfed the majority, technology in its many dimensions awaited its evolution and a device for controlling (or some might say 'uniting') the population. So it especially baffles them that people living in the modern world, enjoying its many freedoms, conveniences with the abundance of scientific theories to disprove the existence of God, still put their trust in an inexplicable but supposedly ubiquitous and powerful entity. Rewind back to a hundred more years or so, the majority of populations in the Western world could be found consistently sitting in pews in church on Sunday mornings. As with time and evolvement with changes, the amount of faithful church attendees have wittled down to what we commonly associate as a gathering of old people. What with the trend in burgeoning Islamic states, war-torn and inflicted with poverty, tending to a small flicker of hope for development, it is not too inconceivable to see why people might view religion especially its entrenchment with culture and state as having forbearance to economical growth, freedoms and development. Religion, and more seemingly Christianity are being put in bad light. News regarding Ted Haggard, pedophiliac priests abusing unknowing altar boys, and fundamentalist Christians allegations on soy milk as the CAUSE of HOMOSEXUALITY and even the history of Christianity - going back to The Crusades sometimes trouble me as I am harpooned with questions about these contradictory cases against my religion and my own. IS THIS WHAT CHRISTIANITY HAS COME TO?

Every Sunday morning many many years ago, my family would pack into the small car we had and drove for 45 minutes to the church we attended. My sister in her white dresses, with a big hair-do sitting next to me while she layered pale blue eyeshadow onto her eyelids while I fidgeted with the frock I wore usually with a tulle underlayer and a bow ribbon behind my back - which always untied itself after I ran and climbed in the playground of the church. You'll be surprised, but I actually liked going to Sunday school and I reveled in wonder at all the bible stories that we were taught, my favourite being 'Ruth and Boaz'. We were taught that Jesus Christ was most loving and kind, no matter what your sin with repentance immediately entitled you forgiveness and most of all, He was a friend - someone whom you could confide in with full discretion. As the sultry south-eastern Asia days passed and we got taller, we were told the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, taught of Jesus' consuming wrath and intolerance towards man's sin, taught consequences, taught to fear God. In my mind, this has always been a particular paradox. To love God because he loved you and would forgive your sins but also not to submit to sin in the first place due to His acrimonious anger. Isn't it peculiar in a way - God hates sin but loves the sinner?

The etymology of the word science delivers definitions being: "to separate from one another, to distinguish" and "to cut, to divide", just to name a few. Some might interpret it as "to question", and that is the divider in itself. It seems that hoards of people believe that religion requires unquestioning faith, that a true-believer must banish doubt to oblivion. But the absurdity of it all is that if anyone who had intelligence of sorts would learn that the key to all knowledge begins with questioning. This makes fools out of believers. I have a theory of my own which I live by:

If there was a God and if he did create Man from his own image, he made us if not the most intelligent of all creatures. He gave us consciousness, self-awareness and most importantly, choice which differentiates us from all others. Undoubtedly, if we stand on the highest hierarchical level with respect to intelligence, we have the capability of questioning. Is it not through questioning that we find our purpose of existence - where religion draws its base from? So it should be that we are free to question religious teachings and beliefs in (at least) Christianity. If you wandered away and came back, your reinstatement would be of fuller vigor.

As I consider my father and as I sat in front of the tv watching the aggravated Muslims who torched the Norwegian and Danish embassies due to blasphemous publications of their revered prophet, I thought further: Were these acts of absolute necessity? Should we act against others' form of questioning? Any retort that resorts to physical violence surely shows some sign of uncivility. Surely, we are not living in those days of The Crusades? The one regret of the day is that acceptance of one another is still rather scarce.

To question - that is why I flipped over to another shirt without much ado as I stood in the store. I wonder, am I at a stop-over or am I at my destination?